


Drink You In and Breathe You Out

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Canon-Typical Violence, Established Relationship, First Kiss, Fluff, Future Fic, I Love You, Love Confessions, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mild Sexual Content, Pack Feels, Panic Attacks, Post-Coital Cuddling, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 12:11:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2811530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em> "Stop being such a creeperwolf and come cuddle with me." </em> </p><p><strong> OR: </strong> The five times Derek fell even more in love with Stiles, and the one time Stiles beat him to saying it first.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drink You In and Breathe You Out

**Author's Note:**

> Hi (●´ω｀●)
> 
> This is a fluffy lil thing that I wrote up over a long weekend. If you notice any mistakes that I missed in my quick read through, please let me know!! This actually ended up being much longer than I anticipated, but that just means more Sterek fluff, I guess ☺. ((Also, this is set a few years after season four)).
> 
> The title is a lyric from Sia's _Moon._
> 
> I hope you enjoy!!

_**01.** _

It's a Sunday in late November, the early morning sky is grey and full with the promise of a storm, and Derek decides that he can't hide his feelings anymore.

The night before had been spent with the whole pack, all of them sprawled out in the newly-furnished living room, legs tangled and bowls of popcorn warming their hands. Scott and Kira had claimed the loveseat the moment they'd walked into the apartment, though their scents are so engraved in the leather that no one ever puts up a fight for the spot.

Isaac snagged the armchair he'd taken a liking to, while Malia and Liam laid out on the floor with their chins in their hands. That left Derek to be squished between the arm of the larger couch and Stiles, who had been sharing his obscenely large package of Sour Patch Kids with Lydia.

Not that Derek had particularly minded the spot, though.

They'd put on some rom-com that was featured on Netflix. It was actually pretty good. Stiles clearly thought so, as he had spent most of the movie stifling laughter against Derek's arm. Derek let himself get wrapped up in the way Stiles' whole body shook when he laughed, and his scent, which was all Mountain Dew, shampoo and delight. Derek had let himself get so wrapped up that he didn't even realize that half the pack was dozing off, until Isaac startled himself with his half snore.

So pillows were distributed and spots were chosen, and Derek couldn't help but smile at the way Isaac proudly climbed the spiral staircase to the guest bedroom, which he had slowly been making _his_ again, since he returned from France six months before. Derek made sure everyone was settled before retiring to his own room, where the moonlight filtered in through the window. He'd fallen asleep to the sound of seven heartbeats and the smell of home.

Now it's the morning, and it's only half past six, and Derek's the first one awake.

He's already been on his morning run to the preserve and back, and he's showered. His jeans are unbuttoned and hang low on his hips as he grabs a Henley from his drawer, pulling it on over his head and pushing the sleeves up to his elbows. His fingers still over the button of his jeans and tilts his head to the side when he hears footsteps treading down the hall, stopping near the kitchen. He takes a moment and listens for the heartbeat and Derek sighs inwardly. He does up his jeans to avoid an awkward encounter, before leaving his room.

Stiles is making a pot of coffee, when Derek leans against the doorframe.

He watches Stiles move around the kitchen, clothes sleep-rumpled and hair unruly, sticking out in every direction. Stiles pours some coffee into his favourite mug and stirs in some sugar and cream, takes a sip, winces, then adds in another spoonful of sugar. This time his eyes flutter shut when he takes a sip, and Derek's entranced. Then he decides to make his presence known, so he takes a step forward, letting the floorboards creak under his weight.

Surely enough, Stiles looks up from his mug and nearly jumps three feet in the air, free hand clutching at his chest. He sets down his mug (he miraculously didn't spill a drop) and glowers at Derek, though there's a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

"Jesus Christ, dude," Stiles squawks, "Warn a guy before sneaking up on him."

"Sorry." Derek says, though his tone is light and playful. Stiles squints at him before humming, turning away and reaching up to the highest shelf to grab another mug. Derek tries not to zone in on the way Stiles' shirt rides up; on the pale strip of skin that's exposed. He averts his eyes and stares at the magnets on the fridge, at the crude sentences the pack has spelt out with the magnetic poetry Cora bought him, until Stiles sticks a cup of coffee under his nose.

Derek thanks him with a smile, taking a sip of the liquid caffeine. It's done just to his liking, just a touch of cream and sugar, and even though it's a simple thing, he's surprised that Stiles knows he  _likes his coffee._ Derek sighs at himself, because he's so far gone for this boy it's incredible. Stiles suggests that they go for a breakfast run when they finish their coffees, as Derek apparently still doesn't know how to shop for teenaged werewolves, despite having done it for nearly four years now. Whatever. They're quick to finish and Derek washes the mugs quickly while Stiles speeds off to the bathroom.

Derek makes a small list of things they should get, knowing that Isaac prefers his breakfast sandwiches with sausage, while Scott likes his with bacon. He figures that they can stop and get some actual groceries too, so he scribbles down food he knows that the pack will eat and he's brought into a state of absolute distraught when Stiles emerges from the hallway, hair damp and jeans tight, Derek's plain t-shirt ridiculously large on him. He's rolled the sleeves up and he's thrown the plaid shirt he wore the night before overtop, but _still._ Stiles is wearing Derek's clothes and he doesn't know what to do about that.

So he swallows and pretends like he doesn't notice, though all he can smell is the way that his and Stiles' scents are mixing together. Which, fucking great, he's going to have to deal with that all day. He folds up the list (which was written on the back of an envelope he found on top of the fridge) and sticks it in his pocket, smiling a little as Stiles hops around on one foot, trying to get his shoe on without sitting down like a rational human being.

Finally, they're taking the elevator down to the lobby, where they open the door that leads out to the parking lot. Having his own building is nice, Derek supposes, but lately he's been thinking about renting out some rooms. Maybe fix the place up, put some ads out there...

Then again, considering the amount of supernatural battles that typically take place in the loft, it's probably not a great idea.

Stiles offers to drive, dangling his keys while they walk past the cars that belong to the pack, so they hop into the Jeep and Stiles pulls out of the lot and onto the deserted road. He fiddles with the radio dial, searching for a station that isn't just playing their usual 7:30 am talk show. Somehow he finds a decent one, and he turns up the volume a few notches as the DJ announces the next track. He drums his fingers against the steering wheel to the beat of a song Derek doesn't recognize, and he just makes Derek dizzy, sometimes.

They're pulling into the parking lot that belongs to the local supermarket in no time, having decided to get the somewhat healthy groceries first. Stiles pushes the cart while Derek grabs things from the shelves or from the displays of various produce. The store is actually pretty empty, thankfully, so they're in and out in under twenty minutes. As they're carrying the bags out to the Jeep, Derek hears Stiles' stomach grumble. Come to think of it, he's pretty hungry himself, so he doesn't say anything when Stiles drives nearly fifteen miles over the speed limit to get to the diner quicker. Their order is large, and Derek lets Stiles persuade him into paying for multiple rounds of pinball while they wait.

The rain starts sometime during their fourth round, so they bolt to the Jeep, shirts already mostly soaked through by the time they're safely inside. Derek places the several styrofoam containers on the dashboard; Stiles just cranks the heater. Only - it just blows out cold air, which does nothing for the chills caused by the suddenly unpleasant weather. Stiles swears and turns it off, moving instead to just rub his palms together. Derek considers his options heavily before seizing the moment and taking both of Stiles' icy hands in his own, using his excess werewolf heat to warm him up. Stiles doesn't say anything snarky or roll his eyes at the gesture. He just stares, wide-eyed, at Derek, mouth open in awe. Derek keeps his eyes locked with Stiles', and he wonders if Stiles can tell how badly he's _aching_ for him.

When Stiles' fingers aren't trembling from the cold anymore, Derek lets go of his hands. But Stiles' stare remains, and Derek shifts nervously in his seat when he wets his lips with his tongue.

Then they're just sitting there, eyes flicking back and forth from their mouths to their eyes, and Derek's heart feels like it could beat out of his chest. And he - he thinks of so many things. He thinks of the pack back at the loft, now probably waking up, and of Scott, who will know instantly. He thinks of Malia, who would be able to tell after a few moments and it would be so, _so_ painfully awkward because while she and Stiles broke up so long ago, Derek knows that they still care about each other, deep down. Then he thinks of himself, of his own feelings and what he and Stiles could become together, and they _deserve this._

So while they're both staring, just daring the other to make the first move, Derek can't think of a reason to not do this.

He cups Stiles' face in both hands and kisses him right on the mouth. At first, neither of them move, and there's a gearshift digging into Derek's side, and they're both just sitting there with their mouths pressed together. Then something clicks, and Stiles' eyes flutter shut and he gets a fistful of Derek's Henley and they really start kissing. Derek deepens it, his tongue slipping easily into Stiles' mouth when he parts his lips. His hands are gentle on Stiles' warm and flushed face. And Stiles, well, Stiles makes up for his little experience with a hell of a lot of enthusiasm, and Derek just knows deep in his bones that there'll never be a bad kiss with Stiles.

A crack of thunder breaks them apart.

Stiles' lips are shiny and red and swollen, and his skin is a lovely shade of pink from where Derek's beard scratched against it. Stiles' hair is messy and his chest rises and falls quickly and his heart is hammering in Derek's ears and then he _laughs_ \- his whole body shaking, grin nearly splitting his face in two. Derek's not sure what's so funny, until Stiles leans over and kisses him quickly, just a chaste peck on the mouth.

"We just had our first kiss in the fucking rain." Stiles states, when his laugh has died down into little fits of giggles. He's still smiling, and Derek returns it with a grin of his own. He takes Stiles' hand in his own, and he's still smiling when their fingers tangle together. Derek doesn't really understand the swelling of his heart, or the chills running down his spine, or this feeling in his gut, but he thinks he likes it. He likes it a lot.

_**02.** _

Derek knew the moment Stiles came skidding into the loft, clutching wildly at a pile of folders, something was about to go down.

"It's witches," Stiles says, spreading all his documents - which all have the _Beacon County Sheriff's Office_ logo in the corner, because, of course - out on the desk, "All of the evidence leads to it."

Derek leans against the table and scans over the reports, the crime scene photographs, the phone logs, even. There's missing girls and boys all years younger than Stiles. Some look like they aren't even in middle school yet. And at every crime scene, there's symbols burned into the ground. Derek flips a page and winces. The body had been dumped in a ditch, it looks like, with dead eyes staring out into the living world.

"How did you get these?" Derek asks, peering over at Stiles with raised eyebrows. Stiles gives him an all-too innocent smile, before reaching across him and picking up a stack of photos that have been enlarged, focusing solely on the symbols. Most of them are foreign to Derek, but he has a hunch that Stiles is right. He usually is.

"I cross-checked these with the bestiary, Deaton and ol' trusty Wikipedia," Stiles sifts through some of the papers before pulling out one with his hasty scribbles all over it, "And most of them are signs of rituals and sacrifice shit. Der, these witches are killing _kids_ to get something out of it."

Derek looks at him long and hard, before pulling out his phone and selecting number three on his speed dial. Scott picks up on the second ring, and after hearing Derek's brief and to-the-point explanation that Stiles rolls his eyes at, he promises to be there with the pack in ten minutes. While they wait for the others to arrive, Stiles finds one of the maps they used way back during the alpha pack hunt, still marked up with Allison's inscriptions.

Stiles stares at them for a moment, Adam's apple bobbing, before bending to grab a pad of sticky notes. Derek frowns as he watches him, and he knows with a chilling certainty that the guilt will never go away. He still feels it every day, the pain from the fire and the guilt of killing Boyd; of letting Erica die and finding his sister's body. Well, half of it. And Derek hates - absolutely hates - the thought of Stiles going through it all too.

So he moves in behind him and presses a gentle kiss to his neck, his shoulder, his jugular. Derek can feel Stiles' pulse under his touch, and it's exhilarating. Stiles sighs and fiddles with the drawstrings of his hoodie; then he turns and plants a quick kiss on Derek's lips. Derek's hand is just coming up to cup his cheek when Stiles pulls back, a small smile making itself at home on his lips. Then he clicks his pen a few times and scribbles out more memos to both himself and the pack on the pink, purple and blue sticky notes he'd found.

Coincidentally, Isaac's the first to show up. He and Stiles have been slowly building a friendship off their mutual respect, and the dick-ish comments made in the other's expense have mostly stopped. After Isaac comes Lydia, and then there's Malia. Soon enough, the whole pack's crowded around the desk, listening to Stiles spout the same spiel he told Derek not fifteen minutes before. Scott comes up with the plan to split up, different pairs going off to a certain part of town to search. Scott suggests that Derek goes with Malia, as the younger, newer pack members still learning about their skills.

Derek's about to object, but he sees that Stiles and Isaac are paired off. And while their friendship may not be a strong one, they at least trust each other enough to not get the other killed. (Derek hopes so, at least). He crosses his arms over his chest and stands next to his cousin, who's bouncing on the balls of her feet. Within five minutes they've completed their plan. They'll go off on their separate ways, dig around, and come back to the loft in two hours to report their findings. Simple enough, really.

Scott and Liam are heading for the industry district, where abandoned warehouses occupy the land. Lydia and Kira are taking the school. Stiles and Isaac have the perimeter of the woods; Derek and Malia have the preserve. Derek leads Malia to his car, where they pull out and follow the Jeep down towards what remains of the Hale house. Stiles stops the Jeep and parks it on the shoulder of the road, while Derek keeps driving, taking the dirt path that will eventually end at the fenced off Hale property.

They get out and start walking around, Derek reminding Malia to let her senses take over; to let them do the work for her. He wanders around, picking up scents as he does.

"Derek? I think I found something." Malia says in a whisper, not too long into their search. Derek walks over to where she stands, looking down at the ground. He picks up on the scent of blood immediately, though there's traces of raw panic, of pain, of death. He jogs the last few steps and sees the body. She's barely ten, with her throat ripped out and blood dotting her otherwise clean white dress. He feels pain in his chest, but he has to get more of her scent. He has to figure out what the hell happened. He and Malia both crouch down at the same time, effectively getting closer to her. Malia reaches out with a slightly shaky hand, and closes the girl's eyes.

Derek takes a deep breath and takes everything in. He closes his eyes and _focuses,_ not on the girl, but what happened to her. Finally he catches the scent of something acrid; of something putrid. He frowns and opens his eyes, staring hard at the source. An oak tree, barely five feet away from the girl. He steps around her and moves to the old tree, tracing the outline of a symbol with the pad of his finger. It's been burned into the bark, some of the lines still dark from the flames. He's almost certain that it's the same as one he saw in the photos, but he figures Stiles will know for sure.

Pulling out his phone, Derek takes a picture, hoping it's clear even in the dark, and sends it to Stiles. Minutes later, he has a response.

 **STILES:** _that symbol is the most common one in the photos. we're on our way!!_

Derek rolls his eyes, but he's smiling as he types out a quick reply and pockets the phone again. Malia leans against a neighbouring tree, and looks at him with her head cocked to the side. Her nostrils flare and he can tell that she's gathering his emotions, his feelings, with her senses. Which, okay, if it weren't being done on him, he'd feel like a proud teacher.

"You two seem happy together." Malia notes, hands half buried in the pockets of her jeans.

Derek's momentarily shocked, because the two of them haven't properly announced their relationship to the pack yet. Surely enough, most of them have picked up on it, but still. He wonders if he can play it off like he doesn't know what she's talking about, but she's absolutely right. And he doesn't feel like lying anymore. "Yeah, we are."

Malia nods and gives him a small smile. "Do you love him?"

Derek opens his mouth to answer, when her eyes flash blue and she starts shuddering into a shift. He's confused, as only the full moon could have this effect on her (and the next full moon isn't for a few weeks). Derek rushes over to help and barely gets a hand on her arm before he starts feeling it too - exactly like the pull of the moon, the ache in his bones the same, the fire in his stomach prominent and painful as hell. He squeezes his eyes shut and forms fists with his hands, but suddenly he can feel the prickling of claws digging into his palms. He knows that Isaac and Stiles are close, because Isaac's whine-like howl rings in his ears. Then his head snaps up because he knows what's happening, but it's too late.

The witches seem to appear out of nowhere, stepping out of the shadows like they'd been there the whole time. The woman at the front smiles, her red lips pulling back to reveal a wide white grin. And as far as supernatural creatures go, they look the least like Derek would expect. Derek knows from his mother that they aren't actually like the witches portrayed in fables or films, and most of them are decent and unknowing of their power until a certain age. Most of them use clean, good magic. But the witches standing in front of him radiate an aura so dark, it sends shivers down Derek's spine. And the shouldn't look like _that -_ like a group of supermodels who just stepped off the catwalk for a minute.

"Derek Hale," the witch leers, twirling a long black curl around her finger, "Nice to finally meet you."

Derek doesn't respond. He just stays in front of Malia, and prays to whoever's listening that Stiles and Isaac have turned around and won't be anywhere near this. But this spell they're using must be strong, because he's just heard Scott's roar-like howl, and he'd been across town two minutes ago. Derek knows that this is seconds away from turning into a bloodbath. He crouches down into a fighting stance, snarling at the head witch, when he hears a branch break. Derek glances to his left, sees Stiles, and feels his heart drop to his feet.

*** * ***

Derek can't stop pacing.

From one end of the loft to the other, then back again. His expression is set into a permanent frown, and Isaac's finally given up on trying to break him from his reverie. Lydia sits on the edge of the couch, hands smeared with blood that isn't hers, explaining everything that happened to a very anxious Sheriff, who's in the town over for some training seminar. Kira is cleaning her katana, and though her heartbeat is steady, her movements are jerky and Derek can tell that she's terrified. 

Derek doesn't focus too much on the others. He can't. All he knows is that he and Scott finished healing the bulk of their wounds an hour ago, and both of them are barely coping. Hell, Scott hasn't left the vicinity of Derek's bedroom, opting to sit with his knees brought up to his chest in the hallway, just millimeters away from the door.

Half an hour later, Deaton comes out of the bedroom. Melissa follows him, brow creased, pulling off her gloves. Derek tries to not shake as he lets Deaton explain everything that happened to the whole pack.

"From what I can gather, these witches you encountered used a sort of distracting, disorienting spell on you that simulates the effects of the full moon," Deaton says, eyes lingering on Derek, "As for Stiles, he was attacked with a simple defensive spell, one that I could teach you all right now. The effects should wear off soon, and Melissa's stitched up the wound on his stomach.

"Is he -"

Derek's cut off by Melissa's nod and smile. "He'll be fine."

There's sighs of relief flooding the room, and Derek feels like he's on fire. Scott comes trailing into the room, no doubt having heard everything from around the corner. His arms are crossed over his chest, and he looks at Deaton thoughtfully.

"What do you think they wanted?" Scott asks, and Derek thinks he might see a hint of burning desire for revenge in Scott's eyes. He reaches out and puts a hand on his shoulder. It's the least he can do.

"You said they were attractive, right?" Deaton asks, and Scott nods, as does everyone in the room. "I'm guessing that they were using the purity from the children and the sacrifices to obtain beauty. With the beauty came power that they simply did not know how to handle. I'll have to read up on the reports, but I've heard of many cases identical to this one."

And with that, everyone nods, now completely understanding. Then, like someone snapped their fingers, the whole pack simultaneously heads for the bedroom. Derek's eyes flash blue in warning; Scott's a fiery red.

"Derek will call us and let us know when he's awake." Scott says, sounding more like an alpha than Derek's ever heard before. It seems to be the same for everyone else, because they all look a little shocked. Derek nods to show his promise, though all he can think about is getting to that damn room, to be there when Stiles wakes up. Scott gives him a hard look before he's gesturing for everyone to gather their things and head out. Isaac reluctantly does so too, accepting Scott's offer to grab pizza and hang out at his place.

Finally - _finally_ \- Derek walks down the hall and pushes open the bedroom door. He can hear the steady thudding of Stiles' heart, the soft breaths escaping his slightly parted lips. He steps inside and all he can smell is Stiles, and Derek immediately relaxes. He leaves the door open a crack and crosses the room to sit next to Stiles in the chair he assumes Melissa had been using. But he stops short at the foot of the bed, staring at the thick pad of gauze covering half of Stiles' abdomen. The way the smallest witch had dug the dagger into him still makes Derek flinch, more so as he stares at it now.

The soft pink line from the scar left by the Nogitsune is still there; curving upwards, disappearing under the bandage and reappearing near his belly button. Derek lets his eyes roam all over him; the way the blankets are tangled around his long legs; the way his hair is disheveled and how he somehow got a leaf stuck in the thick strands. Derek doesn't realize how long he's just been standing there, staring, until Stiles speaks.

"Stop being such a creeperwolf and come cuddle with me."

It's more of a mumble then anything, but Derek catches every word. He watches as Stiles' eyes open, just a little. Then there's two amber irises blinking up at him and Derek's heart is racing. So he walks up the right side of the bed and slides under the covers, jeans, bloody shirt and all. Stiles sighs and immediately curls into his side, using Derek's chest as a pillow. Derek lets his arm fall against the actual pillows, fingers brushing Stiles' arm. Stiles falls asleep again moments later, and Derek sends a text to everyone, informing them that he woke up, but he's back asleep again. After that, he lets his mind and body relax, and he falls asleep to a hammering heart and sparks flying through his chest.

_**03.** _

"What the flying fuck was that?" 

Derek smirks to himself, watching the numbers on the microwave tick down from three minutes. A second before the timer goes off Derek pulls the popcorn out, pouring it into a large bowl before disposing the bag into the trash. He closes the microwave door and switches the timer back to the actual time before heading back out to the living room. Stiles is sprawled out on the couch, arm thrown up and pointing towards the large TV in disbelief.

Derek plops down next to him and offers the bowl, which Stiles happily takes and sets on his sweatpants-clad thighs. He pops a couple pieces in his mouth before turning back to Derek, looking a good mix of being shocked and pissed right off.

"You missed it, Wolfy," Stiles says, gesturing wildly to the screen again, where another hopeful contestant is walking out onto the X-Factor stage, "This dude was freaking awesome, right, like I'm talking potential superstar awesome, and they shut him down and said no because he was a little 'pitchy'. Like, what the hell?"

Derek just smiles at him fondly and shrugs his shoulders, grabbing some popcorn for himself. Stiles perks up again as a girl with long, red curls stands center stage with her acoustic guitar, taking an excited sip of his Coke as she starts her song. Derek finds that he watches Stiles more than the auditions nowadays, because it's just too damn hard not to. He gets all excited about every little thing, and shouts random shit like -

" _Fucking_ Simon!"

- so, yeah. Derek enjoys X-Factor nights more than he should. Sue him.

"Der, you aren't even watching!" Stiles exclaims at one point, looking over at him with his mouth agape. Derek's eyes flit downward, toward the slowly fading hickeys on Stiles' neck, the beard burn on his bare chest. Stiles says something else but he doesn't hear him; he just leans over and kisses him. The surprised, yet happy, sound he makes is almost too much for Derek to handle. Stiles' fingers tangle in Derek's hair, tugging a little bit, and he pushes the popcorn bowl off his lap and onto the coffee table, so he can swing a leg over Derek's thighs and plant himself on Derek's lap.

They're just getting into it when the intro music blares from the speakers, announcing the end of the commercial break. Stiles _ooh's_ into the kiss, turning around to watch the next audition. Derek sighs, but he's perfectly fine with the new position. He just kisses a long line from behind Stiles' ear to the pale expanse of his neck, mouthing over last night's hickeys. He kisses over his shoulder and breathes in deep when he reaches the base of his neck. Stiles just swats at him half-heartedly in the beginning, though he quickly stops because he's too wrapped up in the TV.

At the start of the next commercial break, Stiles turns around and kisses him hot and wet and hard, their noses bumping together. Derek's hand falls to rest on the small of his back, bringing him impossibly closer. Stiles' legs bracket Derek's hips as he grinds down, biting filthily down on his bottom lip. Derek groans and squeezes Stiles' hips, and he finds it so endearing that while they've done little else than this since they got together, it's still as breathtakingly amazing and wild each and every time. He's starting to pull on the hem of Stiles' shirt when the damn show comes back on, and Stiles pushes gently at his chest so he can watch.

Stiles flops back against the armrest of the couch, and Derek follows, playfully kissing down his neck, thriving under the sounds of Stiles' choked off laughter. He mouths over Stiles' exposed collarbone, following the sharp line and the dip with his tongue, effectively sucking a new hickey just above the bone. Stiles swats at his head, while his own drops back against the couch.

" _Ohmygod,_ let me watch him kill this audition and I'll blow you."

Derek sighs against his neck and sits back on his side of the couch, letting Stiles rest his legs in his lap. Derek starts to massage his quads without really realizing what he's doing, but the giggle and flail that comes from Stiles when he squeezes his ankle is hilarious. Naturally, Derek does it again, and Stiles has the same reaction though he _had_ to have been prepared for the second attack. Derek grins devilishly after he does it a fifth time, and Stiles launches himself into Derek's lap and loops his arms around his neck and laughs against his mouth.

Derek thinks that the taste of Stiles' laughter is something he'll never forget.

_**04.** _

It's the first Saturday of Christmas break, and Derek is ridiculously anxious.

He wrings his hands nervously, squeezing them tightly together before loosening them. He sits for awhile; tries to read, to watch whatever movie Isaac is watching. Then he stands up again and starts pacing. At one, Isaac leaves with an annoyed roll of his eyes, though he promises to come back with a banner that says _WELCOME HOME STILES (THOUGH YOU'VE ONLY BEEN AWAY FROM HOME FOR TWO WEEKS)_ if it'll make him feel better. Derek just glares at him, and watches him leave with his backpack slung over one shoulder. Isaac's right, though. Since finals were stressing Stiles out, he opted to stay on campus to study and take his exams and save money for the break. That also meant no visits to his dorm - he had a strict rule, one that even counted for the Sheriff.

So, yeah. It's been quite some time since Derek's seen Stiles, unless Skype sessions counted.

Derek cleans, though there's little to clean, and he showers, though he showered twice already. This time, when he's standing in front of his steamed-up mirror, towel wrapped around his waist, he moves slower. He figures that moving quickly just to get back to his worrying isn't going to help him, so he moves as if he's been put in slow motion. He changes slowly, pulling on a pair of jeans and a Henley. He brushes his teeth. He even spends more time than usual towel-drying and running his fingers through his dry hair, instead of just leaving it like he usually does.

And, of course, he texts Stiles.

 **STILES:** _i'm pretty sure i aced my intro to criminology exam. party time!!_

 **STILES:** _i'll be there at seven, by the way. i have to go home and see my dad first, because he'll kill me if i don't._

 **STILES:** _oh, and i expect a very welcoming welcome home, if you know what i mean._

Derek huffs out a small laugh, though his thumbs are frozen above his keypad. He's unsure as to what he should reply with, though Stiles unknowingly saves him by launching them both into their usual "Superhero A vs. Superhero B in a fight" debate. A couple hours later, Derek figures that Stiles must've finally left campus and starting driving back, as he stops replying milliseconds after Derek sends a text. That's okay, though. Safety is a must. Then he shakes his head at himself because _this is his life_.

Despite himself, Derek actually goes out and buys a cake mix. To keep himself occupied. Honestly. He mixes ingredients together to make the batter, pours it into a pan, and sets it in the oven. The mix calls for "double-chocolate-extreme" icing, but he only finds French vanilla in the store. He had shrugged and bought it anyway, because it's Stiles' favourite. Then he frosts the cake and it's 6:09. Less than an hour to go.

He sets the cake out where Stiles will be able to find it, changes into a pair of jeans that aren't covered with various smudges of flour or icing stains, and plops down on the couch with a book. There. He's decided he won't move, to distract himself until Stiles comes. Of course, that means he ends up getting so involved in a sci-fi novel that Liam left on his coffee table a couple weeks ago that he doesn't realize Stiles is there until he raps his knuckles against the door.

And - okay. Derek had planned on opening the door properly, and welcoming Stiles in. Maybe shown him the damn cake, and kissed him. But when he opens the door to see Stiles with flushed cheeks and wild hair and wearing one of Derek's shirts, it just happens. He just grabs Stiles with a hand to either side of his face, and kisses him hard. Stiles doesn't complain, though, he just drops the overnight bag he'd brought and slings his arms around Derek's neck.

They slowly move more into the loft, and Derek barely remembers to close the door. Then there's two hands pulling his shirt over his head, then those same fingers are trailing down from his shoulders, over his chest and his sides, dancing over his stomach. Derek rips Stiles' - _Derek's_ \- shirt off and mouths at his neck, hands dropping low to his hips.

Stiles just kisses him square on the mouth again, fingers carding through his hair. Derek's hands inch lower, past Stiles' ass, until he has a good grip on his thighs. He hoists him up effortlessly, and the little surprised giggle that escapes Stiles makes shivers crawl down his spine.

Stiles' legs tighten around his middle and he tugs lightly at Derek's hair, making him groan. Stiles' smirk is wide, and he does it again, only this time he's biting at his shoulder. When they get to Derek's room, he kicks the door shut behind them and drops Stiles onto the bed, crawling up after him and positioning himself between Stiles' spread legs. Derek kisses him again, though it's short and chaste. He spends more time kissing down his throat; over his collarbones and his chest and his ribcage; biting playfully at Stiles' hips. He works on Stiles' fly with his fingers and Stiles somehow already has a hand down his pants, cupping Derek and smiling up at him far too innocently.

"Nice to see you too, big guy." Stiles mumbles, and Derek huffs out a laugh into his skin.

*** * ***

Later, after Derek's cleaned them both up with a damp washcloth, Stiles lazily draws circles over Derek's skin with the pads of his fingers.

"I missed you so much, and I've been gone for fourteen days." Stiles whispers, dark eyelashes sweeping against his cheekbones as he blinks up at him, hair messy and sweaty against his forehead. Derek nods, and leans down to kiss the top of his head.

"Everyone's been busy with finals. It's been lonely around here. I've missed you the most, though," Derek admits, liking the way Stiles' eyes light up, "Isaac's been staying here since he finished his exams early, but I think he's pissed at himself for not applying anywhere else. It's bumming him out seeing everyone having to fly home or drive a few hours."

"He can apply somewhere else next year, if he really wants to." Stiles says, and Derek nods, shrugging his shoulders.

"'S nice having him around, though." Derek stares down at Stiles, taking in the way the pretty smattering of moles looks against his flushed skin, the hickeys trailing down his throat, the finger-shaped bruises on his hips.

"Yeah. Well, I'm definitely coming home more if I get _that_ every visit." Stiles smiles around his words, though he says it into Derek's arm. He kisses his shoulder, and curls closer into Derek, draping one long leg overtop of Derek's.

Derek thinks he might be asleep, but when he goes to pull up the covers, Stiles stops him with a hand circling his wrist.

"Wait, did I see a _cake,_ earlier, or was I just imagining things?"

Derek's heart swells, and he thinks that he's in love as he's padding off down the hallway, slicing the two of them pieces of cake with French vanilla icing instead of double-chocolate-extreme, at midnight. The cake, according to Stiles, tastes like how sex feels.

_**05.** _

"Dude, you have nothing to worry about."

Derek gives Stiles a skeptical look out of the corner of his eye, fingers tight around the steering wheel. With Christmas a few days away, John was holding an early Christmas dinner, while everyone was home and not busy with their own families. The whole pack was invited, and Derek was kind of freaking out, because, well. John had gotten used to them all, sure, and has grown to like Derek, but still. He has no idea what he'll say when he finds out that Derek's dating his son.

"Der, please," Stiles whispers, grasping the hand that had been positioned on Stiles' thigh for most of the ride over, lacing their fingers together, "Ever since the harpy attack two years ago, my dad has considered you family. Now it's just a little more...serious."

"Yeah, and God knows what he'll do when he finds out." Derek grumbles, thinking about the possibilities. There's wolfsbane bullets loaded into his pistol. There's the inevitable left hook that Derek knows John can land pretty well. And, of course, possibly the worst of all, mace. Derek winces just thinking about it.

Stiles gives him a knowing look and presses his lips to Derek's knuckles. It's ridiculous how quickly the feeling of Stiles' lips on his skin calms him down. Derek exhales and Stiles smiles, and fiddles with the radio dial until he finds a station that's playing Christmas music on a loop. Stiles starts humming along to _Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas_ , while Derek tries to even out his breathing. He turns on Stiles' street and swallows hard as he parks behind John's cruiser. There's a few other cars parked on the side of the road in front of the house and a couple filling up the rest of the driveway. Derek guesses that John left the single spot left for the Jeep.

Stiles walks a few steps ahead of Derek, running up the porch steps and knocking twice on the door before twisting the handle and letting them both in.

Stiles starts shucking his coat when John rounds the corner, and Derek's overwhelmed by the smells of the food cooking, the real fir tree in the living room, everyone's delight and pure cheerfulness. John hugs Stiles, clapping him on the back and his eyes crinkling in the corners from his smile. It's not until Derek is pulled in for a hug of his own and he feels the rough material under his palms that he realizes that he sticks out like a sore thumb compared to everyone else.

He glances over and sees that even Stiles is brandishing his own ugly Christmas sweater - his a dark red that naturally looks good on him, with a bunch of awkwardly placed snowmen and Christmas trees sewn on. When John pulls away from the hug and has told them where everyone generally is, Derek stares at Stiles with enough intensity that he _hopes_ the message is clear.

"You really think I'd let you go without the cheesy sweater?" Stiles quirks an eyebrow, and Derek inwardly groans.

Stiles grabs him by the wrist and pulls him up to his room, some of his textbooks piled up on the desk. Derek watches as Stiles rummages through his closet, before grinning with glee and approaching Derek like he's a wounded animal. Derek's eyes widen when he sees the sweater he's pulled out for him; though it must've been bought specifically for Derek, because even holding it up against his frame, he can see that it would be a few sizes too large for Stiles.

"Do I ha-"

"Derek Hale," Stiles plants his hands on his hips, giving him as menacing a look he can manage while sporting _that_ sweater and a Santa hat Melissa threw to him while they were making their way upstairs, "Put on the damn sweater."

Derek sighs, but he sticks his hand out for it anyway. Stiles beams, and hands him the sweater. He reaches up and kisses him quickly, before making his way back downstairs. Derek looks down at the sweater and figures it isn't _horrible_ \- compared to Isaac's, which is decked out with actual stuffed animals and ornaments - so he pulls it on. It's the same colour as Stiles', only is patterned with white reindeer and snowflakes. He tosses his old shirt on Stiles' bed before heading back downstairs.

In the kitchen, Melissa is getting help from Scott and Isaac. Derek greets them all with a small smile, and asks if he can do anything to help. Stiles wanders into the room, sipping on his drink out of a mistletoe-patterned plastic cup, and Melissa nods thankfully. She hands both Stiles and Derek a stack of plates and some cutlery. Stiles smiles at Melissa before he'd guiding Derek to the dining room, where Derek sets down plates and Stiles pairs each one with a knife and fork. And Derek - he feels good. He feels good doing something normal, mundane, _domestic,_ even, with Stiles on this holiday.

When Stiles bumps their hips together as they're working, grins and then kisses him before going off to help with something else, Derek knows deep down that he's never been this happy.

*** * ***

Long after they finish dinner and have started on the deserts, and the conversations about school and crazy-but-true stories (Lydia's about her roommate, her roommate's boyfriend and a fire alarm was probably the best) had mostly died down, Stiles clears his throat and actually taps his glass. Derek would roll his eyes at him, but he has a feeling right in his gut that _it_ is about to happen, and he's terrified. 

"Okay. So, I'm pretty sure mostly everyone here knows about this but," Stiles glances quickly at Derek, who can only manage a small nod, "I -  _we_ \- wanted to properly announce our relationship to the whole pack."

Everything's quiet. Stiles is gripping Derek's hand harder than ever under the table, so hard that if he were human, Derek would probably have a couple broken fingers. He remembers Stiles telling him the story of his coming out as bi right before he graduated high school, and how both his father and Melissa and Scott (who were all present at the time and the first to really find out) all accepted it. But this is really fucking different. Derek feels his ears turning pink at the sudden attention on both himself and Stiles, and stares down at the festive tablecloth. John's the one who breaks the silence. 

"You're really not that great at hiding it, boys."

Nervous laughter breaks out over the group, though Stiles could burn holes through his father's head, he's staring at him so intensely. Melissa just smiles and pours herself more coffee, and Scott just snorts, because he'd confronted them two _hours_ after their first kiss. John sighs and pulls his son in for a sort of half hug, squeezing his shoulder tightly.

"I'm fine with it, you know that, right?" John raises his eyebrows, and Stiles nods, relief pouring off him in waves. Derek lets out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, and risks a glance over at John. The man is giving him a surprisingly warming look, and everything is pretty simple after that. They finish desert and while the table is being cleared and Derek's carrying the empty glasses to the kitchen, John tugs on his sleeve and gestures to the front door. Derek wipes his suddenly sweaty palms against his jeans, and follows the Sheriff outside, the cool December air nipping at their skin.

"Now, I don't want to be the clichéd father, here, but it was bound to happen," John gives him a small smile, "I know that you won't hurt Stiles. You've been family for years now, Derek. But my kid was heartbroken over Scooby-Doo episodes when he was younger. He loves with his whole heart, and I just can't watch him be like he was after he and Malia didn't work out, okay?"

Derek nods, a hundred percent in agreement. "I'd never hurt him, John. I swear."

"I believe you," John claps him on the shoulder, "I'm glad you two are happy."

"Thanks." Derek smiles, and pulls nervously at the hem of his sweater. Lydia comes outside a few moments later, long hair cascading over one shoulder in waves. Derek finds it astounding that she can make a Christmas sweater look good and fashionable.

"We're taking the big pack picture." Lydia tells them, jutting her thumb over her shoulder to gesture back into the house. The two men nod, and follow her inside. Stiles is chatting about some new Marvel trailer with Scott when Derek comes back into the room, and he looks at him over his best friend's shoulder hopefully. Derek gives him a small nod, and thirty seconds later, Melissa is yelling for everyone to get into positions. She's handing out little accessories for people to wear in the picture, and Stiles places reindeer antlers on Derek's head way to happily.

To make sure that they don't ruin the picture with the light flare caused by their eyes, the werewolves all take precautions. Scott's kissing Kira's cheek while holding mistletoe above them, while Kira grins wide and has two thumbs up. Isaac's got a pair of tacky glasses with _Merry X-Mas_ scrawled on the lenses, so he wears those. Malia and Liam make goofy faces that involve mostly closed eyes. And Stiles just tells Derek to close his eyes and smiles, so he does. When the timer on the camera goes off, and the photo is taken, Derek feels Stiles' lips on his cheek. He smiles wider, and when they look at the screen of Melissa's newly-purchased Canon camera, the picture both ridiculous and cute, Derek knows it's definitely a keeper.

_**+01.** _

Stiles hasn't had a panic attack in nearly three years.

Not during his final set of exams right before graduation. Not during the fight against faeries that took over Beacon Hills for a few weeks two summers ago. Not even when his dad landed himself in the hospital for five days because he walked in on Liam's first full moon without chains and Scott nor Derek could get to him quickly enough.

But now, when he's home for the weekend, early January air chilling him to the bone, he feels like he might have one. And only because stupid him decided to go to the cemetery downtown. Because he wanted to see his mom on the anniversary of her death.

He parks the Jeep in the deserted parking lot, and steps out onto the gravel. Leaves and frost-tipped grass crunch under his Chucks, and he keeps his hands deep in his pockets. To keep them from the cold; but mostly so he won't have to see them trembling.

He realizes halfway to her grave that he doesn't have any flowers.

He realizes three quarters of the way there that he left his phone in the center console of the Jeep.

He realizes five steps away that it's the first time he's come to her without his dad, ever.

He realizes as he's crouching down that this'll never, ever get easy.

Stiles runs his fingers down the smooth stone, tracing the intricate letters that make up _Claudia Stilinski._ He swallows hard and sits back on his heels, eyes shiny as he stares at her grave. There's a photograph of her just under her name, taken on her last Christmas before being diagnosed. He stares at her face for a long time, and wonders what she'd think about the mess that has been his life for the past five years. Scott being a werewolf (because of his teenaged curiosity that still gets the better of him sometimes), dealing with a homicidal lizard that was dating his childhood crush and a pack made up of alphas. Being possessed by a thousand-year-old-evil-fox-spirit that still gives him nightmares. Really, he wonders what she'd think about Derek. He's pretty sure that she'd love him. He hopes that she would.

Then, Stiles thinks of all the things he won't get to experience with her. In the future, not having her cheering in the crowd when he graduates from Berkeley. When he gets married. When he has _kids._ He thinks about doing these things with Derek. That's when he starts finding it hard to breathe. The familiar cold sweat dots over his forehead and he can't control the way his hands are shaking. He's thankful he's already sitting down, but not being able to breathe is starting to burn. His lungs ache and he wheezes, trying to catch the tail end of a breath that never met his lips.

He reaches weakly into his pocket, but when his fingertips don't touch the cool glass of his phone screen, he remembers that it's currently residing in his Jeep, which is a good ten minute walk away. Stiles tries to pick himself back up. He tries to count out each breath. He's starting to gather some air, but a cruel memory of his mother playing the piano and laughing when five-year-old Stiles tries to clamber up the bench to sit next to her flashes behind his eyes, and the breath's knocked right out of him. He balls his hands into fists and starts feeling the raw panic set in, and he _can't do this._

He thinks he's imagining it when he feels a hand on his arm. Right after his mom died and he started having the panic attacks, he couldn't have anybody touch him. He'd just start freaking out more. Once, he attempted scratching at his dad. Now it feels like an anchor he can tie himself to, and when he looks up with spots and tears clouding over his vision, he sees a blurry face that somewhat resembles Derek's.

"Stiles, hey, I'm here."

And that's Derek's voice. Stiles swallows and tries to follow it, tries to follow the sound of Derek's voice out of this. He tries to speak but nothing comes out except for a strangled sob, and Derek's hands move down to grasp at his wrists, slowly pulling Stiles' hands to his chest - right over his heart. Stiles can feel Derek's steady heartbeat under his palms; can feel his chest rise and fall with each even breath. Then Derek's hands move to cup Stiles' face.

"Listen to me," Derek's voice is soft, smooth, _reassuring,_ "You have to breathe with me, Stiles."

Stiles thinks he manages a nod. It might look more like a spastic jerk of his head, but the message comes across. Derek makes a show of taking a deep breath, like you would when a doctor has a stethoscope to your chest. He inhales deeply and exhales slowly, thumbs swooping calming circles over his cheekbones. Stiles closes his eyes and focuses on the rise and fall under his palms, on the sound of Derek's voice. His first deep breath is shaky as hell, trembling almost as much as his fingers that are curled into the fabric of Derek's shirt.

"You're doing great," Derek whispers, "Do it again."

Stiles takes another deep breath that matches Derek's, fingers no longer trembling, just gripping Derek's shirt for dear life. He takes another. And another. After a few more, the ache in his lungs is no longer there and though his cheeks are wet with tears, he's stopped crying. After another slow exhale, and opens his eyes fully and takes Derek in. He looks worried to the bone, but he's hiding it. Hiding it so well. Stiles swallows and sniffs and Derek wipes away the tears on his cheeks.

"How did you find me?" Stiles croaks, eyes flitting around, taking in everything and anything he can. 

"Your heartbeat was going out of control, I could almost _feel_ it." Derek says, thumbs still moving over Stiles' cheekbones.

"Do you always hear my heartbeat or something?" Stiles asks, Derek's shy smile warming his insides.

"Yeah." Derek admits, ears pink. Stiles finds it in him to grin, and he presses their mouths together. His hands grip at Derek's shirt and Derek's hands cup his face, and he's almost overwhelmed with this feeling in his chest. His skin feels like it's on fire and there's sparks illuminating him from the inside out whenever Derek's near. He pushes a little harder, he deepens the kiss and feels Derek's hands slip from his face to his neck, to his shoulders. Stiles drags his mouth to the right to breathe, sharing the same air with Derek. Swallowing, and without really thinking about it, he tells him.

"I love you."

It's mumbled into his skin, beard scraping against his cheek, the burn familiar and tugging at his heart. Derek slots their mouths together again, kissing hard with mumbled shared confessions spouting from their lips. Stiles has pretty much situated himself in Derek's lap, and anyone could walk by right now and he feels so scared but so _right._ He pulls away when he remembers that they're in front of his mother's grave. Derek helps him stand on bambi legs, and stares at the grave with Stiles. They stand there for a few more moments before it becomes too hard, and Stiles promises himself to visit again before heading back to school. He'll bring Derek, though. Maybe his dad too. And a nice bouquet of flowers from the expensive shop not too far away.

They walk to the Jeep and once they're settled in, Stiles takes a final deep breath. Then he looks over to Derek, and sees the possible future, and sees everything that they can do together. He sees happiness and probably sadness, because the two come hand in hand, but he knows that they can get through it together. Stiles takes Derek's hand and laces their fingers together, and when their eyes meet, he knows that everything will be okay.

_**fin** _

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on [ tumblr! ](http://yourpalbucky.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Thank you for reading!! This was my first fic that I've ever posted, so feedback would be awesome ♥


End file.
